Chapter Two

War is good
business.

Biggs
took a moment to survey their catch as his pirates unceremoniously dumped their
plunder onto the newly-scorched deck of the Bloody Mary, doing his best to mask his surprise at the presence
of all eleven still-breathing members of the fallen ship’s crew amongst the
smallish pile of salvageable booty.The Silver Princess, his
men informed him bitterly, hadn’t been carrying much cargo.Much of her food stores had apparently
been laid out on the banquet tables that the Flier – and, later, the crumpled
mast – had upended, and it seemed the cabin boy’s fire-bottle trick had taken
care of their stock of spirits.The ship had had no guns – and, therefore, no gunpowder - and aside from
an assortment of crystal gifts on deck, most of which had been demolished
during the battle, very few baubles had been found.Indeed, the battle aboard the Silver Princess that had felled so many of his men had left the
survivors with little more than ropes and sailcloth to show for their
efforts.Oh, one of the men had
found a smallish box with a strange but brightly-colored miniature portrait and
buttons on one side that Biggs had thought might be quite valuable, but in the
push and shove squabble over who could look at it and who had really seen it first, an additional five men made their way
to Davy Jones’ locker with knives in their bellies, and the bauble itself was
lost over the rail.Moreover, the Silver herself had just slipped beneath the ocean’s
surface, leaving only bits of flotsam and a small yellow…thing…bobbing on the surface where the fragile craft had
once been.

That
meant the only truly valuable plunder they would get from the raid consisted of
the prisoners on the deck in front of him.

He
surveyed them critically.For all
the damage they had done to his crew – and they had done some considerable damage to those that had boarded the Silver – it seemed they themselves were not all that worse
for wear.A credit to their
captain - as ferociously as they'd fought, the bird had surrendered as soon as
his best fighters had been overwhelmed, perhaps already aware that the crew
themselves were more valuable as hostages and slaves than anything remaining on
board.

Biggs supposed the man’s logic
suited him just fine, for their capitulation had left the wealthy young lady
completely unharmed – a fact he hoped would persuade her father to simply pay
her ransom rather than angrily bring the authorities down upon them – and cowering
timidly behind the bruised but doggedly protective yellow bird Biggs took to be
her bodyguard. Beside the pair, the brown bird – another bodyguard, he imagined
– sat groggily, rubbing the rather nasty bruises from the choke-hold the crew
member who had caught him put him in, his left eye swollen shut.As Biggs watched, incredulous, the bird
reached up and transferred his eyepatch from his right eye over to his swollen
left, blinking in the sunlight and apparently oblivious to the stir this action
set up amongst the Bloody Mary’s
crew.Was no one in this strange crew what they appeared to be?

The gray captain and the cabin boys
sat nearby, relatively unscathed.Oh, aye, the odd mammalian boy’s
knuckles were bleeding - more from the wearing of a curious set of iron
knuckles than anything else, Biggs suspected - and the younger lad was
painstakingly picking splinters out of his palm, but that seemed to be the
extent of their wounds.The Flier
had no injuries aside from her wing – although that might change, he noted, if
she continued her determined attempts to squirm out of the hold her captor held
her in. The blue buffoon would wake up with a headache and little else to
complain about, and as near as he could tell, the serving wench was completely
unharmed, but had fainted – or at least, was pretending to have fainted, rather than bear the leers and
solicitous glances her ridiculously brief uniform was eliciting from the crew.

The naval officers were the worst
off of the lot by far.The heart
of the Silver’s resistance, they had
thus been the focus of every last battle-starved buccaneer that poured onto the
wavering decks of the crippled ship in search of a soul upon which to slake
their bloodlust.In truth, Biggs
was rather surprised the pair had survived at all, and not simply been trampled
or disemboweled when the teeming melee around them finally overwhelmed their
defenses.Perhaps there was a shred of warrior’s honor amongst his crew, after
all – though Biggs felt it was far more likely his men had simply lost sight of
the two amongst the press of bodies and the voluminous folds of the fallen
sails.All the same, while the
naval officers’ tenacity had spoken well of their training, it certainly hadn’t
treated them well in defeat.Beaten and bloodied - though how much of said blood was their own was anyone’s guess - their unconscious forms drew no
small amount of concerned attention from their colleagues – and spiteful kicks
from those the pair had wounded.

The Silver’s captain had been quite adamant that none of his crew
be harmed - even going so far as to state that he’d buy their freedom once the
pirates put to port – and while that boded well for most of the bird’s crew,
Biggs had refused to guarantee the naval officers’ safety once aboardship.Being a man of reason, he had agreed
not to kill the pair outright – but unless they agreed to join his crew, they
could not stay aboard the Bloody Mary.Brig or no brig, his men
would never stand for it, and Biggs wasn’t about to risk a mutiny over some
Colonial privateer’s parlay
terms.

***************

“They broke my sign,” the boy
cowering behind Ivan whimpered, picking at the last of the splinters his
signature prop had left in his hands.

“It’s okay, kid,” Ivan sighed,
glancing about furtively to make certain none of the heroes were watching
before giving his sign holder a reassuring pat on the head.“We’ll get out of this.”

“I dunno, sir,” Lita whispered,
tugging at her cut-offs in an unsuccessful attempt to make them look more
substantial, “I know what pirates are like.Real ones, not the
watered-down versions you see on TV or read about in history books.If we’re lucky, they might just sell us in some third-world slave
market.Or, well, maybe you can ransom the three of us out of this, but parlay or no parlay, we’re probably only alive now because they’ve got something
extra-nasty planned for us later.”

Ivan suppressed a groan.“Thanks ever so much for those words of encouragement,
furball.You’ve really rallied the
troops here.”He indicated the
sign holder, who was now visibly trembling.

“But I’ve seen-” she began.

“-Nothing of this world’s pirates,” Ivan cut her off, “These
thugs may look a little strange by modern standards, but like any other type of
criminal, they’re in it for the money.”

“Except for the ones in it for
blood and malice.”

“My point,” Ivan growled warningly at the teen, “Is that a
group this size won’t fish you out of the drink just to kill you later.I’d bet my estate they aim to ransom
anyone they can before anything else.”

“And they can ransom us?” the sign
holder squeaked hopefully.

“-Actually, no,” Ivan conceded.
“But as I’ve already told the captain, we can buy back our freedom, and they’ll need to send at least one of you
ashore to collect that money from my associates,” he theorized, “And for that,
they’ll need you both alive.”

“But your friends-” Lita began.

“They can take care of themselves,”
he nodded confidently.“Bob’s an
ex-spy, Beak’s some big-shot Magi, Bobetta’s as blatantly gold-plated as they
come, and Iiwi – Iiwi is legendary in
some circles for her ability to escape the inescapable, and regardless of how
bad she’s making her injury seem, she’s not as lame as she looks.She won’t be able to fly very far, I’d imagine, but given the chance, she would be able to fly away.As or the detectives - they can fend for themselves well
enough.There’s still a raft
within swimming distance, if they can make it over the ship’s side…”

“And they’re not my friends,” he added, glaring reproachfully at the
rabbit.

***************

Sounds came first – muffled and
garbled, as if coming from underwater or a very long distance, but gradually
drawing nearer, louder, clearer.The smell of sweat, saltwater, wood smoke, and blood came next, borne on
a light breeze that brought with it an acute awareness of the sun’s relentless
heat beating down from above and radiating up from the wooden surface beneath
him.And then there was
light.Painfully bright, searing
light that stabbed through the thin shield of his eyelids and into a visual
cortex that wanted nothing at all to do with the world right now, thankyouverymuch.But
scrunching his eyes shut tighter and flattening his ears back did nothing to
stem the flow of sensory information – the barrage continued ever onward,
whether he wanted it to or not.And the newest arrival was a dull, throbbing pain just behind his eyes.

Squeaks awoke to a devil of a
headache.

Experience told him there was
almost certainly more to the damage toll than a mere brain-twisting migraine –
injuries he’d feel later, when he did something brazenly foolish, such as
attempting to sit up, or perhaps simply contemplating any sort of movement at
all - but the headache was more than enough for now.It reminded him that, last he could remember, he and Ferdia
were being steadily overpowered by a blood-spattered horde of murderous thugs –
which begged the question, just where were they now?He
slowly opened his eyes, wincing as the bright sunlight seemed to drill straight
through his eyes and into his brain, making his head throb even more than
seemed possible.

He was sprawled on his back on the
deck of a ship – not Bobetta’s foundering yacht, which in all likelihood was
resting on the ocean floor by now, but an older, larger wooden sailing vessel
that most likely belonged to the aforementioned thugs.Lax to begin what promised to be an
arduous journey through pain by moving about too much, Squeaks tilted his head
back, gazing across the salt-weathered wood of the deck in search of Ferdia and
the others.

A precursory scan of the immediate
area found the rest of the Silver’s crew
clustered nearby, somewhat worse for the wear but none sporting any really
significant injury - aside from Iiwi, of course, who if nothing else seemed to
have made it out of the battle in
much the same condition as she had entered it.Bob and Beak were standing guard over the trembling Bobetta
and Gracie – as well as Ferdie, who was either still out cold from his initial
blow to the head or had regained consciousness only to faint again in the face
of their current predicament.Ivan
was standing off to the side a bit, hovering protectively over his wards while
trying his best not to look like
he was hovering protectively over his wards, who were making use of a small
patch of shade thrown onto the deck by the tall sails overhead.Iiwi wasn’t much farther off, squawking
indignantly at a rat that had her in a full-body hold and doing her best to
twist and flail and maneuver her way over to the rigging or ship’s rail or
anything else that might give her talons enough purchase to gain the leverage
necessary to pitch her captor over her shoulders and send him flying.

Ferdia was nowhere in sight, but a
growing awareness of an unfamiliar weight on his chest soon solved the question
of her whereabouts: the bluebird lay thrown atop him, curled on her side and
half-draped across him in a manner that under difference circumstances might
have been strangely comforting.

But their present situation left no
time for idle speculation.He
turned his head, trying to get an idea of how badly injured they had emerged
from the battle on the yacht.They
looked, he decided after a few moments’ perusal, as if they had been caught in
amidst an explosives-laden train wreck at the end of a particularly long and
punishing shift: battered and bruised, him with a host of new gashes his arms
and tears in the thin membranes of his ears, her minus a few patches of down
and the better part of half her tail feathers, their uniforms so torn and
bloody it was nearly impossible to tell the garments’ original style and
color.His sides ached with the
sharp, insistent throb of several bruised – or possibly cracked – ribs, but
otherwise there seemed to be no obviously broken bones between them; with a
little bit of luck, most of the blood staining their clothes and drying in
their fur and feathers belonged to their attackers, not each other.And while Ferdia still wasn’t moving,
he could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, which was reassuring enough
for the moment.

So.Captured, then.But why?For what purpose
had a horde so seemingly intent on ushering them on to the next life ceased their
attack and brought them aboard as survivors?

Against his better judgment,
Squeaks slowly sat up, sending a low murmur racing through the thugs nearby as
he pushed himself into a half-seated position propped up on his elbows – enough
to get a better view of their surroundings, and arguably as far as he could
rise without disturbing his slumbering partner.He rubbed his temples with the heel of one hand, trying to
will the headache away - or at least into a decidedly more low-grade migraine
than its present form.It worked
to an extent, retreating into the background until it became part of a general,
slow-burning ache throughout his entire body, a dull throbbing pain that cried
out for aspirin or ibuprofin or any one of a dozen more powerful
painkillers.Even morphine would
do, Squeaks decided, shaking his head clear and blinking as he willed the world
back into focus, glancing around at the thugs lining the deck and surrounding
him and his comrades as he did so.

He scowled and glared at the world
in general, feeling a small bit of satisfaction despite himself as the pirates
around him shifted nervously and edged away a bit.Good.At least he and Ferdia had put up
enough of a fight earlier to command some sort of respect – or, at the very
least, a healthy level of wariness – now.Or perhaps, his mind
chided, they simply know the story of the wounded tiger being far
more dangerous than the healthy one.

Ferdia stirred amidst the wave of
uneasy chatter rippling through the ranks, causing even more nervous skittering
amongst the pirates nearest them.One or two actually ducked back into the crowd, finding excuses to move
to another part of the ship as the bluebird awoke with a groan, blinking the
world into focus much as he had.

***************

Rats.Wharf rats, prairie
rats, water rats, wood rats, tube rats - well, all right, the suits that hosted
the annual Sensitivity Training course preferred the term “ferrets” for that
bunch, but she wasn’t feeling charitably P.C. right now - you name it, this
crew had it.As well as shrews,
mongoose – or was it mongeese?,
she wondered briefly - otters, a variety of sooty gulls, and a sandpiper or
two.All caked with dirt and grime
and dried gore and stinking like a garbage barge left out in the sun too long,
all the sort of scum that had probably been born looking mean and nasty and
generally unfriendly, and all
surrounding them.

She didn’t remember losing.Oh, sure, she remembered running out of
ammo at some point in the endless onslaught of enemy fighters, and she
remembered Squeaks running into the same problem moments later, joining her in
the now hand-to-heavily-armed-filth-encrusted-hand brawl.And
she remembered the number of brawlers swelling beyond her line of sight, to the
point where she’d stopped focusing on targets simply because she couldn’t miss
connecting with an attacker, regardless of where she aimed a punch or kick, the
press of bodies rapidly degenerating the fight into something more along the
lines of an angry shoving-match-come-knife-fight in a mosh pit, but that was all she remembered.Gingerly, she sat up, raising her hand to a nasty bump
the size of a golf ball throbbing tenderly at the base of her skull - the only
ready evidence she had as to the means of her defeat.Although it hardly looked like it mattered now.

She shifted her hip, testing to see
if her gun was still tucked in the waistband.No such luck – but no surprise, either.She imagined their pockets had been
picked clean as part of the spoils of war, not that either Squeaks or herself
had been carrying much beyond their sidearms and badges – though she cringed at
the thought of breaking the news to the Chief if said items now rested at the
bottom of the ocean.The paperwork
alone would keep the two of them on desk
duty for a month.

Of course, that was assuming they
ever made it back to the precinct house.

That thought brought a sudden
shudder racing unbidden up her spine, and she quickly pushed it and all others
like it from her mind.Let’s
not get ahead of ourselves, she chided
herself.If they were
going to kill us, we’d be dead already.We’re not, so that means there’s still a chance we can make it
off this ship alive.

Yes, agreed her inner pessimist.It’s a short piece of wood we
like to call a plank.

Shut
up, she instructed the tiny voice of
doom.

Scanning the crowd of pirates
again, she caught sight of a tall, muscular marten standing off to the side of
the rear deck, thoughtfully scanning the clustered captives with an air of
authority.His fur was grizzled
and graying, and his face bore a long white scar that traced a path from his
right ear to his left jaw and included a milky grey eye she felt certain could
no longer see but that tracked with its mate all the same.The tip of his left ring finger ended
in a gnarled scar just below where the third finger joint should have been, and
his mangled, misshapen tail seemed to be missing a good chunk of meat near its
base.He wore a long, faded coat
of a style she recognized from stories but could not name, and while both it
and his breeches were quite worn - even threadbare in places - at least they
were clean.The coat itself was a strange blend of hues that seemed to
indicate it had started out a deep blue, but had seen so much blood it took on
a permanent maroonish tint, and despite its length, it failed to mask the fact
that when the marten moved, it was with a pronounced limp.

To Ferdia, he looked like something
off the cover of a book of old sea shanties.This would be their leader, she supposed.The quintessential pirate captain, as
it were. Good.She needed to yell at someone.

She’d just opened her beak to greet him with a decidedly loud barrage
of pleasantries that would challenge even the most jaded sailor’s opinion of
his vocabulary and doubtless send Lita scrambling in search of something with
which to jot down notes on new words and phrases with which to scandalize her
teachers and the world at large when Squeaks’ hand clamped it shut again.She shot him a warning glare than
attempted to translate a choice few of said phrases into ocular malice, but her
gaze turned curious at the sight of her partner’s concerned expression.Shaking his head in a
barely-perceptible ‘no,’ he slowly withdrew his hand, but held her gaze.

“What?” she queried softly,
glancing around.What had she
missed?

“I’d keep quiet if I were you,” he
advised in a similarly hushed tone, “I don’t think they’ve figured you out
yet.”

Now she was just confused.“What?”

“Pause for a moment to take stock
of just what’s going on here, and our situation in all of it,” he said by way
of answer, nodding towards where Bobetta and Gracie were huddled just outside
the reach of a press of jeering pirates.“In particular, pay close attention to how the crew treats the two of
them, versus how they act towards us.”

Ferdia frowned.She didn’t see much worth noting, aside
from the fact that the pirates nearest her and Squeaks gave them a wide berth.
“They’re afraid of us, but not of them,” she shrugged, “So what?We put up quite a fight; they
didn’t.”She jerked her head in
the direction of Ivan and his wards, as well as Iiwi, all of which were being
given a fair amount of space.“It’s
the same with Ivan and the others.We’ve all shown them we can be dangerous, so for the most part they’re
leaving us alone.”

He shook his head.“While that is true, it’s not the main reason they’re hassling Bobetta and Ms. Hen.Look again.Only the two
of them are being harassed.”

She did as her partner instructed,
trying to see what he saw.But
while it was true that the pirates clustered closely around the heiress and her
maid, occasionally reaching out to finger their hair or pull at their skirts
amid their squeals and protests, just as many of them were laughing and jibing
Bob and Beak as the kiwis angrily yelled and swatted the offending hands
away.It was a bit like watching a
group of kindergartners, actually – boys with frogs chasing shrieking girls in
princess dresses around the playground at recess while a few valiant souls ran
to tell the teacher.She cocked an
eyebrow at Squeaks.“I’m still not
getting it.I mean, so they’re
teasing the girly girls – so what?They’re easy targets in those frilly dresses, and they don’t fight
back.It’s juvenile, maybe, but I
don’t see what it’s got to do with me.They’re leaving me alone, same as Lita and Iiwi.What exactly is it that I’m missing?”

Squeaks favored her with a long,
unreadable look, one that seemed to indicate the mouse was highly skeptical
that his partner couldn’t see what
apparently seemed so obvious to him.Still,
Squeaks was usually so straightforward that his sudden shift to a series of
subtle hints struck Ferdia as a deliberate attempt at making her feel dense.

Either that, or his warning
concerned a subject he’d rather not breach.

“Bear in mind how long these men
have likely been out to sea, eh?” he prompted, “I doubt it’s anything quite so
benign as simply picking on pretty girls in fancy dresses.”

When Ferdia only frowned at his
comment and tilted her head in a manner that indicated she was still waiting
for an explanation that made sense, he sighed, shaking his head in
resignation.“They don’t know you’re
female.”

Ferdia blinked.Well, that would be another way of explaining the thugs’
behavior.Her feathers ruffled in
anger.Not feminine enough for
them, eh?Too masculine in a pair
of trousers and a jacket, was she?Well, let’s just see how manly they felt after she’d kicked them in the-

Squeaks noticed her glowering.“Don’t take it the wrong way, eh?They don’t seem to have noticed Lita,
either, and it actually works in our favor.”

Unplacated from what she saw as a
grievous insult to her physique, his partner still looked as if she were about
to launch a full-scale assault against every last pirate aboardship for their
failure to immediately associate her with her correct gender.“What about Iiwi?” she spat, her subconscious
scrambling to poke a hole in his line of reasoning in the interest of
self-preservation - after all, there were still a lot of pirates aboard the ship - “Judging by the shouts
of ‘shut up, wench!’ and ‘lay off, ye harpy!’ they know she’s female.”

Squeaks shrugged, mentally
grimacing at the inelegance of the gesture when combined with the simple truth
of why the crew could care less about
Iiwi. “Most of the crew’s mammalian.A Flier’s nothing more than an oversized parrot to them.”He raised his hands in a preemptory surrender
to whatever angry comments that
remark might provoke.“Look,
indignation aside, we’re at a significant disadvantage here.We’re outnumbered, unarmed, and we
can’t retreat to higher ground because there is no ground.You and Lita are probably lucky they misidentified you.Alerting them to their error would be putting yourself in even more danger than we’re already in.”

Ferdia considered his words for a
moment.The mouse was a trained soldier and tactician, after all, and he did tend to put far more thought into his actions than
she did her own.He was also the
very embodiment of Egalitarianism, and so the odds were his warning stemmed
from a genuine concern for her safety and not misplaced, outdated sense of
chivalry…

“Squeaks, that is really touching,” she smiled, letting the comment
hang in the air for a moment before her inner wiseass got the better of
her.“I’ll have to smack you for
it later.”

***************

Bob was worried.Not *too* worried – they were the Good
Guys, after all, so there was no doubt in his heroic mind of minds that things
would work out just fine in the end – but worried, nonetheless.These pirate-y villains were rather
mean looking, and despite the fact that he and Beak had been valiantly staving
the fiends off for the past hour or so, their rescue fleet was nowhere in
sight. Not that he wished to rush the rescue fleet and miss the climactic
buildup of tension normally associated with the waiting for said fleet, but he was getting a little tired from all this staving.

Oh, he didn’t doubt for a second
that help was on the way, of course - after all, Good always triumphed over Evil in the end, regardless of how
spectacularly Evil seemed to be doing up to that point.

But he did wish it would hurry.

***************

Well, the naval officers were
awake.And planning their escape
already, Biggs saw.That was
quick; he himself fancied that, were he to suddenly find himself enjoying the
hospitality of a brigand’s ship instead of drifting down to Davy Jones’ locker,
a bit of gratitude would seem in order.Not that he wouldn’t be planning
an escape or mutiny from the instant his eyes snapped open, but at least he’d
make a show of loyal servitude in the interim.Mayhap it was a lingering influence from the native savages
and imported criminal laborers the Colonies were overrun with, but the officers
seemed intent on skipping right over peaceful overtures and simply picking up
where the morning’s battle had left off.

With a weary sigh, he continued
observing the pair from the rear deck, masked by the rest of the crew, but it
soon became apparent that they had already spotted him and deduced his
rank.As had the Silver’s grey-feathered owner, who was openly glaring at
him.The two cabin boys stood
behind him, steadily getting bolder – the small kiwi snapped at the crew
nearest him, and the taller lad even went so far as to backhand a pirate that
had tugged at his curiously long ears.Such belligerence! Biggs
thought to himself, frowning in disapproval.But at least the rest of the captured crew was behaving as he’d expected, remaining
oblivious to all but those pirates nearest them as they struggled to keep their
womenfolk out of reach.

First things first, then.The hostility radiating from the
captured fighters was sowing seeds of doubt in his own mind – had his crew
searched them thoroughly, or had a handful of the Silver’s curiously exotic weapons gone unnoticed?The marten decided that wasn’t a
question whose answer he cared to wait and gamble on.Quite the contrary - if there was any chance at all they
were armed, then there was no reason to give the officers time to reload.Biggs made his way down to the middle
deck and approached the pair with the imposing menace he could muster.

The pair were on their feet the
instant he moved.

“Now, now,” he barked, hastily
waving his men back lest another battle break out.He turned to the officers, giving them his most winning
smile and spreading his hands in a gesture of good faith, “Ye two certainly put
up a fight back there!Speaks well
o’ yer training, it do, but ye no doubt realize the fightin’ part be over wit’
now.It’d only get ye killed, an’
I promised yer cap’n,” he nodded in Ivan’s direction, “we’d try’n avoid setch.”

The bluebird muttered something
under his breath.Biggs couldn’t
make it out, but the pair’s stubborn glares were plain enough.“Ye needn’t worry o’er yer mates;
there’s nothing ye could do ter alter their fates now.But I assure ye, we wouldn’ae bring a
soul aboard just to pitch them off ag’in.They be bound fer ransom or servitude, nothin’ more.”

No response.

“Enough pleasantries, then - I kin
see ye can’t be bothered with setch.Straight to business ‘tis.”

The cold stares continued, and
Biggs found himself frowning again in response.Aye, his accent was a bit of a thick one, but they need but
ask and he had no doubts he could locate a crewman to converse with them in
whatever tongue they preferred.

The briefest of glances passed
between the captured two before Biggs’ question was answered with the slightest
nod from the bluebird.

“You ought to’ve been able to tell that by our flags alone,” the lanky cabin boy hissed from
across the deck as the glares from the officers continued.Biggs ignored the boy; after all, the
lad was worth his weight in cane on the sugar fields, and the moneyed captain
of the late Silver seemed intent
on buying their way to freedom.Their fate – be it ransom or slavery, depending on whether the gray bird
made good on his word – was already decided as far as Biggs was concerned, and
thus the pirate captain had little interest in the trio, be they sharp-tongued
or no.

For that matter, what were they
even doing still abovedeck? he
frowned.Oversight, he decided.But at least it was an oversight easily corrected.

“Twitch!” he bellowed, watching for
the ripple in the crowd of pirates pressing in around the deck that always
prefaced the bosun’s approach.“Take thar three down below,” he ordered, indicating the Silver’s captain and two cabin boys.

Twitch took a hasty step back,
throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder that sought his captain’s
guidance.Biggs sighed and turned
back to the officers.“Not much
fer manners, are ye lot?” he prodded.

Still no response.No, no manners at all, these
Colonials.Perhaps the Americas
were simply unfit for something so civilized.“Very well then - t’bizness it is.I tender ye an offer to join my crew-”

“Ach, ye should at least take a
moment t’consider it,” Biggs chided
them.But his suggestion was met
with the same cold glares; it was obvious they’d made their decision long
before he’d asked.“So be it,
then,” he sighed.“I’m nae fool
enough t’think the brig’ll hold ones as yerselves fer long, so if ye’ll nae
join us peaceful-like, I’ve nae choice but t’put ye t’sea ag’in.Bosun Nibbles!” he called to a scraggly
hamster on the lower deck, “Fetch down a longboat!”

An assortment of grumbling met his
command as his crew protested the order.They’d prefer blood, no doubt, or at least a walking of the plank, but
he’d given his word to the Silver’s
captain and meant to keep it.“Fetch a longboat, I said, or more’n thar two’ll be goin’ fer a row!” he
spat.

He turned back to the naval
officers as his crew hastened to prepare a longboat, ushering the pair down the
deck more by subtle herding at sword-point than manhandling as another howl of
protest met his ears – this time from the crew of the Silver.“Ye’ll
be given a flask o’ drinking water an’ a day’s rations,” he informed the pair,
“Ye defended yer ship well; ye’ve earned that much.”

His crew clustered around them
expectantly as they reached the portside edge alongside a break in the rail,
pressing the two in a defensive stance.Biggs imagined neither of them was too keen on getting run through or
thrown overboard - still, this was the most action his crew had seen in weeks,
and he was hardly about to stop the men from having this last bit o’ fun.He’d given the officers their chance,
after all, and he was taking a sizable gamble with his crew’s goodwill in
seeing the terms of the Silver’s parlay through as it was.The two took an instinctive step back as the massed crew
crowded closer, and would have taken another, had their heels not met with the
end of the deck.The mouse
steadied his mate as the bluebird failed out his arms for balance, and the cornered
pair tried in vain to meet the attack – but last-minute bloodletting was not
the charging crew’s objective.They simply bull-charged the two, knocking them backwards off the side
of the ship.

Biggs heard their startled cries as
they tumbled over the edge – and the muted thuds as they landed in the longboat
tethered in the water at the ship’s side.His crew pressed against the side rail, peering over the edge and
jeering at the officers’ surprised expressions.Had they truly believed they were being thrown to the
sharks?Really, now.If nothing else, Biggs was a man of honor – when he promised a man a
longboat, he kept that
promise.Even made sure not to
give them one with leaks or broken oars, most of the time.Making his way to a clear patch of
railing, he leaned over and tossed them their promised flask and rations.“I wish ye a safe journey,” he bade
them with a wave, cutting the lines tethering the longboat, “May the sea treat
yer courage with kindness.”

***************

Okay.Bob was really
worried now.Those Evil pirates
had just thrown Ferdia and Squeaks overboard!And now they were headed for him!The forces of Good were in peril!

This called for drastic
measures.He shouted to Beak (over
the sounds of Bobetta and Gracie’s shrieks) that perhaps the Magi might want to
wake up Ferdie.The tall kiwi
looked rather unconvinced that this was a good idea, but what Beak failed to
realize was that a screaming, panicking Ferdie was a brilliant diversionary
tactic - the coward’s antics were often highly distracting.Also, it put one more person between
them and the pirates.He debated
letting Beak in on this piece of information, but decided against it in the
end.Beak would probably object to
it on moral grounds.

Several pirates were gesturing his
way and conferring with their captain – doubtless planning their next dastardly
deed.He couldn’t quite make out
what they were saying, but he didn’t like the way they kept glancing over at
Bobetta and her maid.Just the
wench, then, one of the pirates entreated
loudly, and Bob was even more
certain they were plotting something unsavory.

A few feet away, Beak was busily
slapping Ferdie in an effort to wake him up.Now, Bob would have thought Magi had special mind-speaking
ways of waking someone up, but perhaps Beak was conserving his energy.

As
Bob surveyed the area for more people to place in the line of fire – er, for
more survivors of the pirates’ attack - he noticed Ivan shout something rather
irate at the pirate captain as his wards took up fighting stances and glared
menacingly at the pirates around them.Hm.Maybe Ivan could divert the vile fiends’ attention for a while…

***************

Ferdie woke up to the sound of
someone screaming.

Now, normally, this would have been
no big deal – had he been the one
screaming.Professional coward
that he was, he never let little things like the possible absence of actual
danger stop him from being prepared, so he often woke up screaming even if he hadn’t had a nightmare.It would, after all, have been entirely unprofessional to
awaken from a nightmare without
screaming.And there was always
the chance that some maniac or what-have-you would be in his room, standing
over him, ready to maim him in some way or another once he woke up.The screaming might possibly startle
said maniac, or at least make him feel appreciated.But, we digress.

He quickly realized it was Bobetta
and Gracie screaming – or, well, mostly Gracie, as Bobetta soon fell into a
swoon again (perhaps it was the poofy dress and tightly-laced bodice she was
in, but the heiress seemed to be doing quite a bit of swooning today…) - before he noticed Bobetta’s yacht had
evidently undergone quite a growth spurt while he was unconscious, for it now
sported three masts, dozens of sails, and a great deal of filthy men that could
not possibly – under any situations at all, regardless of charitable
intentions – be Bobetta’s servants.It then occurred to him that Beak was still slapping him, so he took a
minute to inform the Magi that he was fully awake now and if the kiwi hit him
again, he would be forced to throw Beak overboard.This had its desired effect, as it made Beak drop him and
begin laughing heartily.Feeling
slighted, Ferdie took stock of their situation.

Hmm.A horde of smelly pirates was striding rather menacingly
towards him, and Bob and Beak were already busily forming a protective shield
around Bobetta and Gracie that they would not let him join. Ivan was standing
off to one side with his wards shouting Italian obscenities, and Iiwi was
busily sharpening her talons on every living creature that came near her.He couldn’t locate his sister and
Squeaks; a few seconds of listening to Gracie’s screaming and a glance in the
direction of the maid’s frantic gesturing clued him in to the fact that their
primary offensive weapons had apparently been set adrift in a rowboat.

Well.Surrounded by pirates on an enemy vessel in the middle of
nowhere, with no weapons, no phone, and your two best fighters rapidly
approaching a mile off the port bow.Only one thing to do in a situation like that, he decided.

He promptly started screaming.

***************

Biggs turned his attention away
from a strange, almost metallic-looking silver bird flying amidst the clouds
high overhead when the screaming started anew.The blue bird had apparently awoken and begun screaming
again, which only led the women to scream more hysterically and point off to
the longboat.The bird was not
simply screaming; he was shouting something at the longboat - though what,
Biggs couldn’t quite hear, as the men before him were still insistently
haggling over whether or not securing the wench in the crew’s quarters instead
of the brig was a breach of parlay if
they were “gentle” with her.Ignoring his men – as well as the Silver’s gray captain, who could apparently hear the crew’s
arguments better than he could and had several rather loud objections to it,
Biggs focused on the clownishly-dressed bluebird.The young man bore a strong resemblance to the avian naval
officer, he realized.A younger
brother, perhaps?That would
certainly explain his consternation at the officers’ fate.

No matter.Biggs ordered the bird knocked out
again and thrown into the brig, on the grounds that it would muffle the fool’s
shouts until such time as he annoyed his jailer into keelhauling him, and
pushed past the increasingly irksome crewmen blocking his path, making his way
over to the group huddled protectively around the women.It was long since time to split them
up.

“Bosun Nibbles!” he bellowed to the
hamster hovering uncertainly nearby, “Lock th’ lady in me cabin.‘tain’t much,” he said apologetically
as Bobetta shrieked in protest, “But ‘tis th’ best me ship has t’offer.”To Nibbles, he continued, in a tone
that made plain his displeasure at having to repeat himself, “Take th’ rest o’
‘em below – I don’t much care what becomes o’ th’ wench, but throw th’ men in
th’ brig – an’ see to it that Flier’s wings’re clipped!”

Looking back on it, Biggs would
swear what happened next had been part of a coordinated effort - some bizarre
fighting strategy of the sort only the Colonies and desperate men seemed
capable of concocting.As his crew
forced their captives apart, one of the men grabbed the wench from behind,
snaking an arm around her waist.With a shriek of horror and outrage, the hen whirled to face the man –
taking a hold of the offending arm and throwing him across the deck as she did so.

In the blink of an eye, the rest of
the group sprang into action – the lanky cabin boy felled the pirates nearest
him with savagely-thrust elbows and a whirling kick as the grey captain leapt
at the pirate restraining the Flier, a knife suddenly in his hands as he
knocked the man’s hold loose enough to free her wings, and she fluttered about
madly as her former captor clamped an iron grip on her talons, terrified of the
damage to his person should she break free of his hold.As the Flier half-dragged the luckless
man across the deck, the tall brown bird drew his sword once more – Biggs had
no time to wonder how it was the weapon was still in his possession – and that
fine blade that shone like light itself began whirling and blurring overhead,
cleaving his pirates’ blades - and even pistols - in twain like a hot knife
through butter.The pirates rallied
to meet the attack, charging those in the group that were still unarmed – but
the lanky mammalian youth dove into the fray like a man possessed, wrenching a
mop free from a startled green parrot as he did so.In the boy’s hands, said mop became more demonic a weapon
than any of the swords and cruelly-fashioned nightmares Biggs’ men wielded, and
the marten watched in growing horror as his crew faltered until the trio’s
assault.

The fight that had begun aboard the
sinking Silver Princess had resumed on
the decks of the Bloody Mary -
and this time, the confusion sprawled a much larger scale than the fragile Silver’s small gangway.

Backing away from the pandemonium,
Biggs heard a shriek as he trod on the lace hem – and delicate foot – of the
lady, and as she fell to the deck, clutching her ankle, he saw naught but a
swiftly-moving yellow blur.The
yellow bird plowed into him like a springing tiger, unbalancing the marten and
knocking the wind out of him.Biggs found himself teetering precariously at the very break in the
portside railing where his crew had sent the naval officers over the side, and
flailed desperately in an attempt to regain his footing – but all in vain.He felt himself topple off the edge,
and had just enough time to level his pistol at the kiwi catching his balance
at the edge of the railing and squeeze off a shot before he slammed into the
cold water with a large splash and the world went black.

***************

Booting the nearest pirate away,
Beak took a minute to look around for Bob.It had been a while since he’d fought so many tough
opponents, and the day’s battles were quite invigorating.However, Bob was his friend, and he
felt he should make sure the kiwi was all right.Beak himself had already had several close calls after
venturing just a bit too close to Lita’s
whirling maelstrom of death and mop-water...

Suddenly a shot rang out – and
Bobetta screamed.Rushing in the
direction of the sounds, Beak found Bob lying unconscious on the deck near
Bobetta, a bullet wound grazing his temple.

Beak made a decision then – this
battle was over.He sent out the mental command
immediately, yelling it in MindSpeak to every last pirate.Seizing control of their tiny,
under-stimulated criminal brains, he inserted the instruction that Beak
Must Be Obeyed; seconds later, the fighting
ground to a halt as pirates froze in the act of attacking, looked about
themselves in confusion, and turned to look at the Magi for instruction.All but a few individuals complied with
the command.Ivan and his
wards – and, surprisingly, Gracie, who had taken to wielding her stiletto heels
like a pair of Japanese Sai when
a pair of grungy pirates had blundered into her and messed up her
hair – quickly dispatched the remainder,
until the only pirate still fighting was the one clinging desperately to
Iiwi.Evidently said pirate’s mind
was strong enough to reject the call to peace in favor of the will to live (or
at least the desire to not be horribly maimed), for he could not be pried off
the Flier.Iiwi took advantage of
this dedication by flying up and down the stairs separating the upper and lower
poop decks.

Satisfied that no attacks would be
coming soon, Beak turned back to Bob, slowly prodding the wounded kiwi back
into consciousness.The bullet
that had grazed his temple had left a rather nasty gash just above one eye, and
Beak moved the kiwi’s fake eye-patch over that eye to keep the blood out of it
until the wound stopped bleeding.

***************

“Bob?” a voice called.“Are you okay?Bob?”

Bob.Yes.That was
him, wasn’t it?He supposed he
should get up and answer whoever it was that was calling him.Just to tell them to shut up and get
him something for this headache…

Ah.There.A tall
brown kiwi in pirate gear and twin eye patches - the right one flipped up on
his forehead - and about 10 pounds of polished silver chains draped around his
neck.Beak, his mind
supplied.This is Beak.Beak is your friend.He’s a bit of a stupid kiwi, and he’s
obsessed with bananas, but at least he can fight, which is more than, say,
Ferdie can do.

He glanced around, taking stock of
his situation.He was on the
middle ‘poop’ deck of a huge, three-masted ship.Pirates milled around everywhere, looking to him and to Beak
for some indication of what exactly it was they should be doing.Halfway up the mizzenmast, fifty feet
above the deck, his arms and legs wrapped around the mast in a fashion that
reminded the kiwi of a frightened bear cub, was Ferdie.The bluebird appeared to be meekly
mentioning that things looked all clear from up there, but he didn’t think he
could get down without getting a tail-full of splinters, and could someone
maybe lend him a hand?On the
wooden floor of the deck not far from him and Beak, the beautiful lady,
Bobetta, wept, clutching at her foot while a scantily-clad wench – Gracie? Yes,
that was her name – tried to calm her down.Further down the deck, a red bird – Iiwi – kicked at a
pirate that refused to let her go, while a gray kiwi, Ivan, ordered his wards
to turn the ship around and prepare a longboat.These were the only people that were not dressed in pirate
gear, which made sense, of course - obviously, they were not pirates.

He looked down at his own pirate
clothing, dusting it off as he stood and adjusted his eye patch.He took a minute to collect his thoughts
before coming to a startling conclusion: he had none.

He could not remember what had
happened, or what it was he had been doing, or even what it was he generally
did.He felt an acutely strong
desire for freshly-brewed coffee, and was aware that he personally knew
everyone his mind had named.These
were obviously the important people.Beak was his friend.Ferdie
worked for him, doing bookkeeping and research and other vaguely important
things that did not require a spine.Iiwi helped them out, when it suited her.Ivan was his arch-nemesis, his biggest enemy.And Bobetta was his one and only true
love.

Okay.First thing’s first.One: Bobetta appeared to be injured, most likely by some fiendish
scoundrel.Two: Ivan was a very fiendish scoundrel. Three: Ivan and Iiwi were trying to get off the ship.Four: the ship was a pirate ship, and he himself was obviously a pirate.He had the clothes, the eye patch, the peg leg, and some green feathers
on his vest that suggested that, until recently, he had also had a parrot.

This led Bob’s great if muddled
detective brain to two conclusions.One: since his and Beak’s clothes weren’t as badly torn and faded as the
rest of the pirates’ (with the exception of Ferdie, but he didn’t really count
since he was obviously a pirate librarian or accountant or something), they
must be the two ranking officers on this ship.Which could only mean he
was the captain.Two: since
Ivan and Iiwi were obviously trying to get off his ship, they must be escaping.And since Ivan was his enemy and had
evidently harmed Bobetta, possibly in an attempt to steal her away, this was a
thing that must be stopped.

“Fiend!” Bob yelled, leveling an accusing finger at Ivan,
“Men!Seize them and toss them
into the brig!”

The pirates, who really had nothing better to do, moved to obey,
seizing the suddenly irate Ivan and his sign holder and Lita, though a good
number of them got clubbed upside their heads before a seven-foot-tall hulking
lout of a beaver hauled the rabbit up by the stick she was flailing around and
a handful of others grabbed her feet.As an afterthought, Bob ordered a handful of pirates to help get Ferdie
down from the mast.He left Iiwi
alone for now; the pirate holding her looked like he had things pretty much
under control.Very clever of the
man to wedge himself between stairs like that.Bob couldn’t imagine such a thing didn’t hurt terribly,
though.He made a mental note to
make sure that pirate was given an extra piece of silver at the end of the day.

***************

Bob was acting strangely, Beak
noted.He seemed confused, and
that was confusing, because it was usually Beak that was confused.But
Bob behaved as if he had just walked in on the battle and was trying to figure
out who people were and what they were doing and what should be done about
it.Beak supposed that must be
something that his friend’s injury was causing.Still, why seize Ivan, he asked.

“Because he is my enemy!”

It occurred to Beak that, in Bob’s
confusion, he might be forgetting some things, like the fact that it was the Bloody
Mary’s captain that had shot him, not
Ivan.It was an easy mistake to
make, as Ivan often carried guns, but it seemed important to correct Bob on
this.

“Ah.Yes, of course.It only makes sense that the captain of one ship must fight the captain
of the other ship.”

Now Beak was confused.Was this part of Bobetta’s birthday
game?He was a little unclear as
to how these things were supposed to work.Birthdays and birthday parties he understood.Themed birthday expeditions, however,
were something new.Bob had
explained earlier in the day - several times, in fact - that they were going to
pretend to be pirates at Bobetta’s birthday party.This had confused Beak – pirates were supposed to be bad –
but Bob had said it was all okay because it was all pretend.Now, the attack on the yacht had seemed
pretty real to Beak – but, he supposed, so did a lot of movie scenes, and he
was vaguely aware of the fact that Bobetta had enough money to hire movie
people if she wanted to, so maybe it was like that.If it was, he was
really going to need to apologize to some of the pirate actors.He hoped he hadn’t maimed anyone too permanently….

The whole thing made no sense to
Beak.But a lot of things didn’t
make sense to Beak, and anyway, the whole themed birthday party thing had made
sense to Bob, so Bob was of course right.So if
Bob said they were pirates, then they were pirates.He’d just keep control of the pirate actors’ minds right
now, so they wouldn’t do anything that would surprise him and cause him to hurt
any of them further.He didn’t
want Bobetta to get sued or anything.

Wait.If he controlled the other pirates, didn’t that make him
captain?

“I thought I was captain,” he said.

Bob cocked his head to the side, frowning.“No, I’m pretty sure I am.”

“I was captain before you woke up,”
Beak ventured.Technically, he supposed.Besides, Bob had a head injury, and might have to go lie down.What fun would the party be then?Beak himself was still in excellent
health, so he could be captain longer.

“Well, not anymore.”

“Why not?” Beak protested.

“Because I’m the captain!” Bob yelled.

“But-”

“I have a peg leg!” Bob pointed
out.

“Well, *I* have an eye patch!”

“So do I!”

“But I have TWO of them!” Beak
boasted, pointing to the eye patch above his right eye.It wasn’t down over his eye, but he
supposed he could bring it down and be a blind captain if Bob insisted.The Great BaNAna would guide him.

“Look, I’m obviously the captain,” Bob was beginning to get annoyed.This was no time for his second in
command to play games. “I even have a hook!”

“Oh, yeah?Well, *I* have a cheese grater!” Beak
retorted, proudly displaying the device mounted on his left hand.

Bob looked at the kitchen appliance
incredulously.“A cheese grater?!?Whoever heard of a pirate captain with a cheese grater for a false hand?!?”

“But…well, would ‘culinary’ even be
in his vocabulary?” Ferdie chimed in, finally freed from the mast.

Bob turned an interesting shade of
infuriated red as his feathers puffed out angrily.“Do not question the ingenious means of the dread pirate- er…”He
paused, flushed face and fluffed feathers returning to their normal state as he
puzzled over a mysterious gap in his memory.

“Bob?” Beak supplied
helpfully.

“Yes!Exactly!Do not
question the ingenious schemes of the dread pirate Bob!” the yellow kiwi
finished, posing dramatically.“…Wait,” he frowned after a moment, “Shouldn’t I have a more…I don’t
know, exciting…pirate name?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bob
snorted.“More like Captain
‘Cutthroat’ Kiwi, something like that.I’m certain you found choosing a
moniker like ‘One-Eyed Beak’ or ‘Deadeye’ easily enough, but with someone of my unique skill set…”

“But
I’ve still got both of my-” Beak
protested, halting as it became obvious that ‘Captain Kiwi’ wasn’t listening
any more, evidently determined to remember whatever name it was he used to
strike fear into the hearts of evildoers everywhere.(Or possibly just into the hearts of non-pirates.)Beak glanced uncertainly over at
Ferdie, who merely shrugged and wandered off, engrossed in thoughts of his own.

Now Beak was *really*
confused.Controlling all those
pirates was becoming a real strain on his brain, making it hard for him to
think clearly - and abstract thinking never had been the Magi’s strong suit to begin with – but he couldn’t shake the
feeling that Bob was acting decidedly un-Bob-like.In fact, a glance at the deck below seemed to indicate his
friend was acting downright mean
to Ivan and Iiwi, but he supposed that was all part of Bobetta’s birthday game
as well.

And if it was, then…well, maybe if
he tried a bit harder, and used some stray piratey thoughts gleaned from the
crew, he could play-act this “First Mate” bit.He had to at least try,
at any rate; otherwise, he might ruin Bobetta’s party, and he didn’t want to do
that!

***************

Ferdie wasn’t entirely sure what
was going on, but he was willing bet his next paycheck Bob really did think he was a pirate captain.It was the only thing that explained
his actions since the battle. Bob *had* gotten a head injury during their brief
battle aboard the ship, after all, and according to his sister, it wasn’t
unusual for people with head injuries to sustain some form of amnesia or
other.Granted, it was usually
more short-term memory loss than true amnesia, but he supposed cases like this
weren’t unheard of.

However, try as he might, he
couldn’t remember how you cured amnesia.In movies, they whacked the amnesiac upside the head again, and that
cured them, but that sounded ridiculous.How could inflicting a second head injury clear up the problems caused
by the first one?That just wasn’t
sound science.He could vaguely
remember some stories where they had psychics come in and use Ouija boards to
reverse the effect.He could also
remember numerous accounts of it just wearing off as time went by and the
concussion healed, and times where showing the person familiar places and
photos jarred their memory.

And a few times where the person
never got their memory back at all.

Well, until he figured out how to
fix Bob’s amnesia, he was just going to have to play along.Beak was obviously mind-controlling the
pirates, so they were no real danger – but it also meant the Magi’s I.Q. was
largely in use, and that much like a computer running out of memory, Beak would
be about as intelligent as a potted plant for a while.Ivan was obviously - and understandably
- pissed, but it was only a matter of time before the gray kiwi freed himself
from the brig, and Ferdie supposed he’d try to explain things to the Mafioso
later.Right now, he really needed
to get Iiwi to go bring back his sister….

….before they lost track of her and
Squeaks and that tiny boat forever.

***************

Iiwi was furious. Amnesiac Bob or
not, this whole scenario was dangerously ridiculous!

Ivan had been dragged below, his
two wards trailing behind the pirates, protesting loudly - and in Lita’s case,
using language so coarse it had actually made a few of the pirates blush - and by the sounds that had followed, a fight
had broken out.The pirates had
later returned, bloodied and bruised and rather reduced in number, and informed
“Dread Pirate Bob” that Ivan and the others had been shut up in the brig.They’d then asked what to do with Iiwi
herself, and Bob had suggested putting her in the brig as well.

Well, she’d had none of that!There
was no force on this earth that was going to get her down in that dark, dank little box, and nothing in
creation that could manhandle her into an iron-barred cage on top of that.She shrieked and kicked and clawed and made as much of a
nuisance of herself as possible, which for a Flier capable of lifting grown men
off the ground and dodging tightly around obstacles like masts and anchor
winches and staircases was quite a serious nuisance indeed, wing injury be
damned.The pirate with a
death-grip on her leg was joined by a second scurvy rat, and their combined
weight kept her from escaping to the crow’s nest or some other out-of-reach
perch, but the rest of the crew had gotten the general idea: they approached
her at mortal peril.

At that point, Bob had changed his
orders to allow for simply shooting her.

Bobetta and Gracie had,
surprisingly, come to her rescue there.Good.It was nice to see
they had some sense between them.However, while their panicked shrieks
and flailing about had distracted the pirates for a time, they were quickly
subdued.It was obvious that Bob
remembered Bobetta, but either he had no idea who Gracie was, or he simply
didn’t care for her at all.And
Bobetta’s slapping him across the face hadn’t helped the “captain’s” mood
any.The satin-and-lace-swathed
princess was currently tied to the mast, piteously pleading with Bob to untie
her before she got rope-burns or sun-scorched.Standing nervously nearby on the poop deck, Ferdie looked
worried by this development - but he was too much of a coward to do anything
about it, especially now that Bob
had displayed a willingness to order people shot.That would, after all, put the bluebird in danger, and he’d
never do that unless he was already
in danger.Beak, for his part,
looked wholly unconcerned about the whole thing, which she took as an
indication that he had no inkling of the fact that Bob was no longer
play-acting a part.The Magi had
apparently decided to go along with whatever Bob said, and Iiwi was fairly
certain he was the one controlling the suddenly-obedient pirates, who had yet
to object to their captain’s disappearance or Bob’s sudden authority.

In all the screaming and slapping,
Bob seemed to have forgotten about her.Shaking one of the two heavy louts free of her leg, she perched on the
ship’s rail quietly, keeping an eye out for any pirates that took it into their
heads to try to capture her, and began the process of forcibly prying her
remaining captor’s fingers off her leg.While this was proving more difficult than it ought to be – she
half-wondered if he had locked up his tendons or had a wooden hand or something
– it was something she could do while keeping a low profile.And, if the antics up to now were the
worst that was going to happen, she’d almost have been accepting of Bob’s
behavior.Furious, perhaps, but as
long as no harm was coming to anyone – or at least not to her - she could have tolerated it long enough for them
to have put in to port.Then she would have beaten Bob and Beak and Ferdie
senseless.

However, Bob had just ordered
Gracie lashed to the bowsprit – the long, pointed lead at the front of the
ship.It seemed the Bloody Mary had no proper figurehead, and Bob aimed to fix
that.And as securing Gracie to
the bow of the ship would be rather difficult on open sea, what with all the bobbing
and pitching of the waves, the bowsprit would simply have to do.This met with no objections from Beak
or the crew, and while Ferdie did
attempt – however timidly – to persuade Bob not to go through with it, the kiwi
simply dismissed the bluebird with a wave of his hand, no one else seemed to
mind at all.Well, except for
Gracie, who was screaming and kicking and had beaten the pirates with her
stilettos so desperately that the heels had snapped off.

This.Was.Madness.

As she squawked her protests,
however, Bob seemed to remember he had ordered her shot, and sicced a fresh set
of pirates on her.That was too
much, really.She could take this
sort of thing from Ivan, or Ozzie, or any one of hundreds of villains and
cheats and what-have-you whose paths she had crossed at one time or another,
but not from Bob Kiwi.Villains were supposed to backstab and double-cross and turn on you.Heroes weren’t.She
felt betrayed.

She also felt incredibly angry.Like hell he was going to shoot *her*!She leapt into the air, beating her
wings to gain some altitude.The
pain from her gunshot wound had lessened a bit once her wound had stopped
bleeding, but while she ignored it as best she could, between it and the pirate
still dangling from her leg, her leap over the rail got her about a meter over
the side of the ship before she began plummeting.Normally, this would have been a bad thing; however, her
captor landed with a rather heavy crunch! on the railing.In a
rather sensitive area.With a cry
of agony, he released her, oozing back over the railing and curling into a
whimpering ball.

Iiwi cupped her wings, turning her
fall into a dive, snapping them open with a gasp a few feet from the ocean’s
surface and speeding away from the ship.A couple hundred feet out – sufficiently far away to be out of the
pirates’ firing range, she wagered – she tilted her wings back, climbing along
an updraft.Powered flight was
agony on her injured wing, but gliding would at least be sustainable for a
while.As she climbed, she cast a
glance back at the ship.Returning
now was out of the question – they’d shoot her as soon as she was in
range.And she did not need another bullet lodged in her wing.Gliding was hard enough as it was right
now.She’d just have to hope Beak
and Ferdie could rein Bob in before he did any real damage to the group.

(Gracie the figurehead didn’t
count, she decided.Gracie was a
stuck-up, over-endowed, flouncy little floozy, and anyway, as long as “Captain
Bob” didn’t take it into his head to ram anything, she’d probably be just fine out there on the bowsprit…)

The updraft fizzled amidst this
rather uncharitable turn of thought, and she leveled out, gliding away from the
ship.Where to go?She couldn’t see land from here – they
were way too far out to sea for that – and she’d gotten far too turned around
in all the confusion.Her own
internal compass gave her a general sense of direction, but that didn’t help
her much.As far out as they were,
and with her injured wing, she doubted she could make it to the mainland – or
even far enough towards shore to be spotted and rescued by fishermen.She circled slowly, debating what to
do.Fly to the ship and face
certain death, or fly eastward to certain death?

Wait.There was one other
option.Fast as she was, the
schooner was still much slower than the yacht had been.And she was fairly certain they’d been
traveling southwest.So….the
wrecked Silver Princess ought to
be a few hours’ flight northeast of her current position.

And a certain rowboat would be
drifting along somewhere between her and it.